


The case of the carpeted killer

by punkypeggy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Lazy John, Mrs Hudson should tell her boys things beforehand, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, The Second case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkypeggy/pseuds/punkypeggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why nobody wrote about Sherlock and John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The case of the carpeted killer

**Author's Note:**

> I humbly apologise for what you will read here.

"A case!", he yelled, happily.

  
They haven’t had a case in what seemed an eternity for him and two days for the good doctor who was starting to get used to being comfy on his chair.  
  
"A case, John!", he announced, again. John looked up from his chair. "I see", he mumbled, and went back to his newspaper.  
  
"I said we’ve got a  _case_ ”, he repeated, punctuating the last word whilst he took the paper off his colleague’s hands and crumpled it into a ball he tossed aside. John looked up from his chair again.   
  
"I heard you the first time, you know."   
  
"You didn’t act like it."  
  
"What do you expect me to do?  _Dance_?”, mumbled John, who after a week was already regretting the decision of moving in with this freak who was all limbs and no morals. As much as said freak had proved him his limp was indeed psychosomatic, the idea of chasing a criminal all around London wasn’t what he expected of his Saturday morning to be. Reading the news, maybe a cup of tea, some crap telly (if the freak kept his mouth shut long enough and his freaker brother didn’t decide to kidnap him  _again_ ), a few biscuits. No. A case meant lots of running, hours of explaining to the blokes in the Met that Holmes wasn’t completely crazy (“If a bit eccentric, he does have a point, I promise”), interrupted meals, and risking their lives for the most ridiculous reasons. All in all, it usually ended well. They would have Chinese for dinner and maybe a glass of whiskey with soda and the satisfaction of a work well done.  
  
All in all, John was still in his pyjamas. The sun was too bright and Sherlock was too excited. Let the younger Holmes delve in his manic case frenzy, he thought.   
  
"All yours. I’m on a holiday."  
  
Sherlock sneered at him and put on his coat, lapels pulled up to create an aura of mystery (they both knew John was right).  
  
All limbs and no morals, he went out and ran down the stairs. Unfortunately, Mrs Hudson was trying a very new, very fluffy, and very unexpected carpet right where the stairs ended.  
  
John found him lying cold on the floor by the entrance two hours later.  
  
No books were filled with their adventures. There wasn’t enough material.


End file.
